Doomed (a Dave Strider one shot)
by KankriVantastic
Summary: A doomed Dave Strider can't fight in a battlefield of dead soldiers who all look like him.


Dave Elizabeth Strider was covered in blood. It was warm and metallic smelling, everything blood _should_ be, but it was wrong, in a way. He stood on a battleground, the dusty earth covered in the same blood that he was wearing like Chanel. Fallen soldiers in cloaked uniform littered the ground like beer cans in dark alleys. It was fitting that they all looked the same. It was fitting that they were the toy soldiers from Christmas storybooks, gullible and made of clockwork and willing to die for a game that always won.

Maybe it was the irony. The realisation that Dave was the best fighter, best swordsman, and he was the best at getting killed. Those were the odds, though. Dave Strider stood in a field covered with mud that was a mix of blood and soil, looking at the thousand, _millions_ of his duplicates, all dead.

Why was he the only one alive? This was a doomed timeline, he knew that much. Maybe this is where we all come to die, he thought. It made sense. He kicked aside an appropriately bloodied sword. _These soldiers, they're all me,_ he realised, _they all thought the same, felt the same guilt as they watched themselves die one by one. _A Knight of Time. Dave laughed, the irony so subtle he hadn't noticed it until that moment. Kings lived to rule, heirs lived avenge, and knights lived to die fighting. _Fucking Lancelot up in here. Steal your queen and go down swinging. _

Bro would've appreciated that. He always knew when Dave tried hard to be cool or when he was too numb to be anything but. Dave could tell he knew by the way his brother left smuppets on his bed to cheer him up, the way there'd be more Doritos in the pantry after a good strife. _Why didn't you ever tell him how much it all meant, the turntables, the shades, the good fights when your ass wasn't kicked? You nonchalant failure. _

He stood up, done with kneeling in a puddle of an alternate version of his own blood. His cape was soaked, and it weighed him down like the guilt he constantly choked on. _If I'm here and not meant to be, does that make this the alpha timeline?_ He spun his sword in his hands, thinking it over. _Nah, John would be here freaking out if it was. Egbert, where are you know, buddy?_ He let his arms fall to his side, the sword hitting the ground and splashing in a dark red puddle. It was heavier than a katana, and off balance. Suddenly those ornate and sick ass swords in movies seemed frivolous and unnecessary.

He straightened out one of his sleeves and looked out over the silent valley. Clockwork was dark and churning like storm clouds in an evening sky. Yet they weren't clouds, they were the gears of time itself, and the smog was the pollution from Dave's mistakes. It seemed to get darker by the second. A dead Dave shifted by his feet, and Dave jumped. Nothing happened, just a corpse feeling the effects of good ole' gravity.

_This is a waste of time, where's that space dog bastard, Jack Black or whatever the fuck._ He took a few steps down the hill, stepping tentatively around fallen corpses towards where the more recent ones were, to where they were still being killed. "This is stupid, I should be fighting frontline right now," he mumbled to himself. "Jack!" He shouted into the burning sky, "You unironic sonofabitch, fight me already, I'll kick your ass!" _God, I sound like Karkat. _

_Squelch_. Dave froze, and slowly, slowly, looked down. His foot was ankle deep in the lukewarm, puréed intestines of one of his less lucky duplicates. Dave Strider, in all of his cool and suave glory, collapsed in the ground and vomited. His back arched and straightened as he emptied his stomach of bile, since he hadn't eaten in lifetimes. He wiped his hand on the back of his mouth, and rolled over on to the ground, where there was, thankfully, a clear patch of checkerboard dirt. He inhaled. Exhaled. Spent a few minutes trying to catch his breath and bearings.

From somewhere in the distance, Dave heard himself scream. Had it been before the game, Dave would've followed the noise, maybe had written and introspective rap about it. Now, he tried to stop imagining all of his past deaths. The stabbing, the asphyxiation, the drowning. Coughing up his blood and staring up at his best friend. Pulling a katana out of his side and glaring at his brother. Burning in the green sun. Strangled by his sister.

Another scream sounded like a tornado siren of agony and raw pain that shredded his vocal cords. The clash of sword on sword. More screaming, shouting, agony. And then , a different voice.

_"Dave!" _It was John. Dave was on his feet in no time at all, and _Dave knew time._ He was running towards the sound of John's voice.

"John!" He yelled, feeling his shades cascade to the ground. He didn't stop when he heard them shatter under his feet. "Where are you?" He could hear the seconds tick by omnipotently, each one's passing marking another second John could be dead.

"Dave!" It came from his right. _I hope to whatever God there is that this is a domed timeline,_ he thought. Dave scrambled to the top of a hill, and looked out over the plateau. Ten meters in front of him, he was too late. He looked up to see Jack Nior pull a curved, tainted blade out of the Heir and toss his limp body to get the ground. Dave fell to his knees.

If John didn't make it, it was definitely a doomed timeline. That was the logic. Jack advanced in his direction, smiled that crooked grin of a murderer. Dave figured that nothing mattered if this was a doomed timeline. _It better be,_ he thought. He closed his eyes.

Dave Elizabeth Strider felt the blade enter his chest, piercing one or both of his lungs. He smiled as he saw an older, shade-clad Dave look at him, watched his own face flash across his eyelids as he took his last, punctured breath. He wasn't afraid of death because he wouldn't be last of his own to die.

...

so hey, that happened. I'm 14, and this is my first one shot, so I would love some feedback, and lots of it. Thanks for reading.


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